Engulfed
by alluring.illusions
Summary: Now that the war was over, Eighth Year was supposed to be smooth sailing for Hermione. However, she found her heart caught between three men. Affairs of the heart never was easy, was it? Please R&R! GW/HG. DM/HG. OW/HG.
1. Revisits

She has been waking up to those nightmares so often.

In these nightmares, she was always running.

Green and red fireworks shooting out of wands. Pool of red contrasting and staining the grey stone floor. Bodies lying on the floor; whose team were they on, she wasn't sure. But all she could think of was how to keep herself alive. Alive for Harry, the chosen one. For Ron, the guy who never fails to turn her world upside down. For the other Weasleys and her friends that she wants to protect so fiercely. And her parents, whose memories she modified, because she loves them so.

She needed to fight.

Hands full of mud and dirt, waving her wand, chanting spells to ward off the Death Eaters.

Four hours and counting. This battle was exhausting her out. She didn't know how much longer she could sustain.

Walking along the deserted corridor, all alone, all she could hear were her own footsteps. She held her wand tightly in her hand.

"I smell a Mudblood."

She gasped and turned. There stood Fenrir Greyback, in the middle of the corridor. She should have watched her back. _The war has no room for mistakes. One wrong move could cost you your life. _An advice from Mad-eye that she should have heed moments ago; why didn't she? Greyback began circling her, taking in her scent. She was sure he could smell her fear. Her grip on her wand tightens. Her mind was racing a thousand miles. She needed to find a way to get out of her, fast. So why was it that at this exact moment, her mind's completely blank? Merlion, she wasn't going to survive this, was she?

Of course, there was always – "_Expelliar_-"

"_Incarcerous_!" Greyback was much faster. Ropes were being conjured from thin air, binding her down. There was nothing to do now, except to be bitten by this monster or to die. She sincerely hoped that it was the latter; at least it's less painful and quick. Honestly, given a choice between death and being turned into a werewolf, any rational human being would choose death.

"There, there. Potter's favourite mudblood, all helpless and alone," Greyback was now sniffing her hair, twirling a finger around a lock of hair. "Sadly, there will be no Potter or Weasel to save you." His intentions became clear as his hands began roaming her body hungry.

Gritting her teeth, she barked, "Get your filthy paws off me!"

She remembered how excruciating the pain that crawled through her body was as he casted the Crucio spell on her. It was more than just needles piercing through her skin. It was pure torture. She vividly remembered how Greyback had laughed mercilessly, enjoying the sight. All she prayed for was for Harry to win this war; at least she wouldn't have suffered and died in vain. And of course, she hoped that Greyback would suffer the same amount of pain that he was inflicting on her, or ten times worse.

She heard him mumbled something along the lines of her learning her place after the pain subsided. Whatever he said after, she wasn't sure; all she knew was that her world was spinning and she was starting to lose consciousness. She laughed and despised her own weakness. How did Harry manage to endure and fight the Crucio curse? Maybe Harry and Ron were right. She was weak, and having her fight in this war was an addition burden. She should only be involved in strategic advances or defences. But she had been stubborn and insistent; she wanted to prove that she could do it like the guys. Ron had told her to stay by his side and fight along with him but she hadn't. Well, she didn't need help. She was Hermione Granger for heaven's sake! She could take down any Death Eaters; she could easily outsmart them. Except that at the crucial moment, her brain had failed her. She was exhausted and out of stamina. In other words, she was vulnerable. And now Fenrir had caught her in this moment of weakness.

She fought to keep her eyes open. But her eyelids were getting heavier by the seconds. Fighting the Crucio curse had taken up whatever energy she had left. Fenrir Greyback's hands were now ripping her cloak and blouse apart, and his lips were all over her neck. The only thought that ran through her head was, _filth, filth, filth_.

Her eyes were now closed, as she started to drift off to the world of unconsciousness.

A voice, that seemed to have travelled from a far distance, cried, "_Stupefy_!" The touches that roamed her body stopped abruptly, followed by a loud thud to the floor. Fast and heavy footsteps.

Complete darkness.

"Granger! Are you alright? Damn it, Granger! Do you hear me?" Warm hands around her shoulders. But his voice was drifting off, getting softer and softer.

All she could manage was to mutter, "Thank god, you came," with a small smile before she was engulfed by complete silence and darkness.


	2. Tainted

**Author's Note: It's been a while. Sorry for the really late update! It's just that I have been really busy with school and I had a bit of a writer's block. But now that I'm on a holiday, I have more time to work on this story with fresh new ideas! :) Reviews are totally loved! :)**

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><p>How long has it been? Two months, possibly. The nightmares just kept coming back, haunting her. Yes, they won the war, yet at the same time, it had robbed them of their innocence. They were all tainted.<p>

The identity of her savior still remained a mystery. The only thing that he left behind was a black cloak, made of the silkiest and softest material, which was found wrapped around her when she was found near the Room of Requirements. Apparently, the mysterious man had sent a Patronus – according to Ron, it was "some huge kinda bird, maybe it was an eagle?" – informing Ron of her whereabouts, and to send someone to her.

"Hermione!" Ron leaned towards her, as he reached out to scoop a serving of mashed potato onto her plate.

She nodded with a slight smile. She shuffled in her seat, and reached into her back pocket to check that the thick envelope was still there. It has become her blanket of security since it arrived last week. It's funny how a single envelope could change her life and at the same time, fill her up with hope and excitement again. A letter from the new headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall, to invite them back to continue their last year of education.

Ron groaned, at the idea of having to study for his NEWTS. Harry merely smiled, happy to see his old schoolmates again, for the final year. As for Hermione, it felt like this was the moment for her to get her life back in track again. Maybe this was the opportunity for her to immerse herself with books again, and then maybe, she could pretend that the war bore them no consequences.

For the past eight weeks, she watched the Weasleys struggled with Fred's death. She heard Mrs. Weasley sobbing for the first three weeks in the middle of the night, as she watched the moving portrait of her twins. Bill and Fleur took over the chore of cooking for the family while Charlie tried to keep the family together. Mr. Weasley seemed to age in the matter of weeks. Ginny hardly ate anything. Ron spent as much time as he could with Hermione and Harry – he tried to avoid his family, especially George. George took it the worst. It was like watching a soul-less body walking around the house, rotting his life away. He didn't talk for weeks, refused to eat, and stayed in his own – or rather his and Fred's – room the entire time. If he did come out of his room, most of the Weasleys avoided looking his way. Hermione and Harry understood why. It reminded them too much of Fred.

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><p>Two weeks after Fred's death, she snuck into the twins' bedroom out of pure concern.<p>

Picture frames were all flipped over; the mirror on one of the walls was smashed to pieces. Hermione's heart wrenched. Oddly, the sheets on the bed which Fred and George were neat and made; there was no evidence of anyone sleeping on it. George was missing. She finally found George in a corner of Fred's closet, hugging a robe tightly around him.

"It smells like him in here." George's voice was hoarse and barely audible. He looked like he had lost at least ten pounds. Hermione climbed into the closet and sat next to him.

"The bed feels so empty and big without him." He breathed in the scent of the robe. It then struck her that he had been sleeping in Fred's closet for the past two weeks.

She tried to be strong for him as he told her how he thought he saw Fred when he looked into the mirror; he tried talking to him and reached out to touch him. But not once, did he respond. And when it dawned on him that it was just his own reflection, he punched the mirror, smashing it into pieces.

She held him tightly as he wept. And when he leaned in for a kiss, Hermione didn't resist or push him away. All she wanted to do was to comfort him and do her best to make him feel better. She didn't have the heart to reject him. They stayed like that, with Hermione holding him in her arms for an hour or two.

When George was exhausted, Hermione led him to his bed. Just as she turned to leave, George reached out to her and held her back. She smiled and climbed onto the empty side of the bed. The side where Fred used to sleep in. George slipped his hands into hers and within minutes, he drifted off to sleep.

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><p>This continued for the next few weeks. Every night, Hermione would find herself sneaking into George's room to keep him company. They would spend time talking or staring at the ceiling until he fell asleep in her arms. She would usually wake up right before dawn, in the spot next to George's, and sneak right back into her room. It wasn't as if there was anything going on between them; she just didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea.<p>

Yet, no matter how careful she was, Ginny figured that something wasn't right with her. Ginny, being her roommate, had woke up numerous times in the middle of the night to find Hermione missing from her bed. Hermione finally confessed that she had indeed been visiting George, and not been sneaking out for some secret rendezvous with Ron. Ginny merely nodded with understanding.

He had been extremely quiet after learning that she would be leaving for Hogwarts in five days.

"Come on, George," Hermione urged. "Are you honestly just gonna stay silent the entire time, till I leave?" It took more than an hour to urge him to speak up. Eventually, she gave up, and stood up to leave.

"You know, I'll miss you when you are gone."

Hermione turned around. George looked up from his favorite corner of Fred's closet. "I will be all alone again."

With a slight shake of her head, Hermione sat down next to him. "We will be here with you," she said, placing her hand of his left chest. "In your heart. Fred and I, both."

For the first time in two months, Hermione saw a smile on George's face.


	3. Caught

**Author's Note: Honestly, I was racking my brains out for this chapter. I kinda got stuck in the middle; but I managed to get through it! :) I have already started on the next chapter, so hopefully it will be out soon! Please review! :) You know I love them (and it keeps me going too!)! :D**

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><p>Hermione knew Ron was starting to suspect something. She could feel it. Or maybe, it was just her conscience eating her alive.<p>

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><p>After last night, Hermione realized that George was opening up to his family once more. When he came down for breakfast this morning – a first in two months, Mrs. Weasley had been more than ecstatic. She ran up to him, to give him a hug and rained many kisses on his face.<p>

"Mum, get off me," he tried pushing Mrs. Weasley away with a soft laughter. That brought smiles to everyone's face. The old George was back. The first step to moving on.

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><p>Breakfast was, however, an uncomfortable affair. George had deliberately picked a spot next to Hermione – which was Ginny's usual seat. Ginny shrugged it off and proceeded to sit next to Harry. And then things just became more awkward from there. While Ron and Harry and Ginny were engaged in a heated argument regarding Quidditch – whether Chudley Cannons or Holyhead Harpies make a better team – Hermione found herself engaged in a conversation with George, giggling along to the silly comments and jokes he made. When she looked up, she caught Ron stealing glances at the both of them, with a slight frown.<p>

Hermione shifted in her seat nervously and avoided Ron's eyes throughout the entire meal. She gave another nervous smile to George as he recalled the story of how he and Fred tried to offer their Agony Acne sweets to Cedric Diggory in their fourth year, in an attempt to make him appear less pleasant-looking, as they were envious of the fact that many of the girls in their year had a crush on him instead of them. Ron was narrowing his eyes at them now.

She cleared her throat, reached for her glass and gulped the pumpkin juice down. She quickly excused herself from the table, and mumbled something along the lines of a tummy ache. Honestly, she couldn't quite remember what it was. Anything to get away from Ron's looks. Hermione locked herself in her room and flopped herself onto her bed. This was all too complicated. Moments later, someone started knocking on her door.

"Who is it?" She prayed that it wasn't Ron; she really didn't want to deal with him right now.

"It's me."

With a sigh, Hermione opened the door to let George into her room.

"I wanted to make sure that you were alright."

Hermione sat at the end of her bed, with a nod.

A moment of awkward silence.

George began to fidget with his fingers anxiously. "I am sorry, Her–"

"For?"

"Well," he looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "Coming between you and Ron."

"You didn't, silly."

George's eyes met hers.

"There is nothing between us right now. Well, there used to be. I guess we kinda outgrew that. Or maybe, I just wasn't ready."

It was at that same moment when George held her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers. Hermione's eyes fluttered close. So soft and gentle. Just like how it had always been.

"_Fuck_!"

Hermione's eyes flew open immediately. She recognized that voice. It was Ron's.

"Ron!" Hermione cried out as she watched him race out of her room. Oh god, how stupid was she to have left the door ajar after she had let George in? Without a second thought, she ran out after him. "Ron, please. Would you listen to me? It's not what it –"

"So _this_ is why you wanted to break things off with me?" Ron hissed, turning around to face her. "You actually dumped me for my _brother_?"

"No," she protested. "You knew that I wasn't ready for us. We parted on mutual terms and you jolly well know that I didn't dump you. We have yet to see it each other seriously. Besides, I was merely trying to comfort George. You know how he's like after F-Fred's death."

"Yeah, such _joyful_ and _warm_ comfort," Ron spat. "Well, have fun, seeing how _ready_ you are to jump at the chance to comfort dear Georgie." With that, he stormed away, and slammed his bedroom door so hard that Hermione was almost certain that she could feel the wooden planks she was standing on shook underneath her.

Oh god, this was exactly what she knew would happen.


	4. Helpless

**Author's Note: Longest chapter so far; and my favourite one in fact! :) Please read and review! :D Oh yes, btw, some votes please. Been contemplating whether it would be more interesting to have Hermione's first sexual encounter to be with Draco or George. Maybe I will go with your votes! :)**

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><p>He held the letter in his hand, staring it at hesitantly. He had to pinch himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.<p>

He must be hallucinating.

A second chance.

Even his mother had been ecstatic at the idea of him returning to Hogwarts. Was she out of her _bloody_ mind? Going back to that damn place only meant one thing – he was seeking for a death wish. Never mind the fact that he and his parents managed to escape death from the fate of the Dark Lord. Never mind the fact that during the war, he felt the need to fight for Potty. After all, he did saved his life. Oh god, he might as well bury himself alive. Yes, he owed his life to that scar-head, but after all, his mother saved his life too, right? They might as well call it even. Well, all thanks to that, he managed to get away with all of the charges. Of course, it definitely helped when the Golden Trio testified for the both of them. Honestly, who in the right mind would actually testify for a Death Eater? Well, apparently, the all-righteous Golden Heroes.

Unfortunately, Lucius had not been so lucky. He was sentenced to five years in Azkaban.

He was sure he would be sent to Azkaban, along with his father, without a doubt, for all the crimes he had committed. Taking the Dark Mark, being a Death Eater, assisting in Dumbledore's death, standing by and watching Granger being brutally tortured by his aunt – _Oh heavens_. It was as though he could still hear her pleas and cries when he walked past the drawing room she was tortured in. And all he did was to stand in a corner and watch helplessly when Bellatrix performed the _Cruciatus _curse on her over and over again. There was nothing he could do to make it stop. He wished he could.

Yet, it didn't stop her from coming forward to testify for him in front of the Jury. Honestly, what is she made of? It was as though she didn't blame him for not helping her out that day.

He didn't know what had possessed him, but he sent an owl back to accept his place as an Eighth Year in Hogwarts. Well, his mother ought to be proud of him. He had after all, went along with her wishes, and is about to embark a whole new journey.

Where his death awaits him. _Bloody brilliant._

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><p>Draco Malfoy still remembered that day clearly. 2nd May. If he could, he would love to erase that day off his mind entirely.<p>

That memory of the countless number of bodies lying in the Great Hall was etched in his mind, forever. He remembered standing at the entrance of the Great Hall, watching friends and families crowding around the bodies of their beloved, mourning for their losses despite the fact that they had just won the war. And then he allowed his eyes to wonder over to a group of redheads, and amongst them, the Golden Trio. Arthur Weasley was comforting Molly Weasley, who looked devasted; Potty held the youngest redhead in an tight embrace, as he murmured words of comfort to her. The other older male Weasels looked, well, plain dreadful and pale.

Granger had now buried her face in that Weasel's chest, sobbing, unable to even glance at the sight in front of her.

From where he was standing, he could still make out the laughter that was bubbling out of the Weasley twin that was lying on the floor. If he didn't know better, Draco would have probably brushed it off as another prank played by the infamous Weasley twins. Except that the picture looked wrong. _All wrong._ The twin – which he presumed was Fred, seeing that both his ears were intact – was still, with no sign of life and his other half was cradling his head in his arms, crying and screaming Fred's name over and over again. As though he was trying to wake him up. From his memory, the twins always came in a pair, laughing, grinning and playing pranks; ever in his life had he seen them so torn apart.

And there he was, watching as George Weasley begged Fred Weasley to return to him. Watching as George Weasley's life crumble in front of his eyes. Watching as George Weasley blamed himself for not being there to protect his older brother, because it was his duty to.

This wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.

He was there once more, standing in a corner, watching helpless and there was nothing he could do.

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><p>Five days later, on the 7th May, Draco Malfoy found himself in the Burrow's backyard, attending Fred Weasley's funeral.<p>

He didn't know why he felt the need to be there. He just did. Maybe he was there to honour that brave twin that he had always secretly admired from afar. Of course, he would never admit it out loud.

For a start, the rest of the Weasleys were civil to him; they probably must have heard how he had helped Ginny and Charlie dueled with a dozens Death Eaters. The other possibility was that they were in too much grief to even bother about his existence. Well, he wouldn't blame them, really.

Throughout the entire service, George Weasley stood by his brother's casket, watching after his twin's body, as though he was afraid that if he ever took his eyes off him, Fred might just burst into flames or _something_. Even when Granger tried to persuade him to sit, George remained rooted on his spot, mumbling something along the lines of "I left him alone the other day, and look where he is now", "it was my responsibility" and "it is my fault".

When the service ended, it literally took the other five Weasley men and Potty to pull George away from the casket, as he threw his arms over his brother's limp and lifeless brother protectively. He was literally shouting profanities and threatening to hex the wizard, who was preparing to close Fred's casket and bury him, as well as the men who were trying to separate him from Fred, to oblivion. The next minute, he was once again cradling Fred in his arms again, with promises that he would not let anyone hurt his dear brother again.

Merlin, he was berserk.

The men backed away. Draco was sure that it wasn't because they were afraid of being hexed to oblivion, because the six of them clearly outnumbered George. It was because they didn't have the heart to tear him away from his best friend and his other half as he said his last goodbye. Molly burst into tears once again; the youngest redhead had already left the service halfway (probably to lock herself in her room) and Granger was there, sobbing next to George, unable to form a coherent thought. And well, everyone else – which consisted of mainly Gryffindors (those who managed to survive the war), Ravenclaws (even Loony Lovegood was dressed in what looked like a black turnip) and a couple of Hufflepuffs (seemed like he was the only Slytherin present) – had burst into tears at the loss of a noble heart.

Damn, even _he_ wanted to cry. To his right, Narcissa, squeezed his hand as she took out a handkerchief to dab her eyes dry.

At that moment, Draco knew no amount of consoling or help or remorse on his part would bring Fred Weasley back to life again and to make George Weasley complete again.

And for the third time in his life, he found himself in an all too familiar situation: standing in a corner, watching helplessly.

And once again, there was nothing he could do.


End file.
